In Unova, the ocean is the domain of the dead and ghastly.
No beast swims in those dark seas with the faintest belief that they are safe. In the deeps and the shallows, in hallowed ports and the open ocean, the drowned wraiths, the frillish, are sovereign. Humans sail by their grace, and a mutual commitment to keep yet greater threats chained in the deepest trenches of the earths crust-the ravenous jellicent, lost to mindless hunger, whose awakening spells doom for life itself.
They say that those beloved by the realm of the dead may join their underwater courts after an untimely expiration, and feast on their own festooned corpses in the traditions of the coastal cults. For not a drop of blood is allowed to drift to the bottom, and allow the undead krakens to recover a hint of robbed might.
The Sea of Ghost haunts the nightmares of humans and pokemon the world over, but the boys and girls of Castelia City have a certain affinity for dying at sea. It's a comforting end, to know that there are friends on the other side ready to greet you.
Yet this is not Unova.
Sitting on the stormswept pier, heedless of the chilling winds ripping rosy hair and icy rain soaking vintage clothing, was a young boy. His knees bent, back and forth, taking him closer then farther then closer again from the edge.
There were no friends to greet him. No family to mourn him. No country that worshipped the freshly dead.
He was alone, but his heart still beats.
Slowly, he stands up, and out a hand to his chest, and a palm facing the broken horizon.
Then, he turned on his heel, and walked away.
Don't look back. No matter what, he wouldn't look back.
The young kit hurried to the side of his new caretaker, the waterlogged human gracing him with a warm smile. The kit's chest filled with air, and his eyes shimmered with pride. He was chosen because he was strong. The king of the playpen.
The human leaned down, and grasped his paw. His eyes closed, and after some deliberation, he spoke, voice even and clear.
"From this point on, you'll be in my care, little kit. And I, Aladdin, will be in your care, just as well," his fingers creaked, scratching in the funny spot behind his ears, making the scorbunny laugh, and beat his feet against the hot stone ground of the fire type sanctuary. "I'd like to give you a name. Is that alright, my friend?"
A name? Not a lot of pokemon had those. Where humans needed names, they only needed scents. The kit breathed in deeply.
The salt of the sea. The char of flames. Strong cotton. Ironblood. The so called "banana" flavoring in his hair and something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Sugary, but off. More on the smoky end of the smelling spectrum then anything else. Up until this point in his admittedly sheltered life, it was wholly unique scent profile.
Okay. Now he would know how to identify his trainer if they got separated. The least he can do was allow himself to be given a name for his sake. He nodded.
"Thank you. Let's see...where I come from, there is a myth of fire. Reshiram, the White Lord of Truth. The power of this dragon aided heroes and villains across the ages. His natural counterpart, the Black Lord of Ideals, Zekrom, was often there as well to contest him, though not always. Sometimes, Reshiram's reign of flames went uncontested."
The young kits eyes were wide, falling backwards as the words of his master led him to a land far away.
"Yet when the lava flows, and the campfires are set alight, when the forest burns and the sun goes away at night, our thoughts do not turn to the divine, but to the mortal. Our thoughts turn to Volcarona, the Giver of Life. And her sacrifice."
The words faded away, and Aladdin chuckled at his kits aghast expression.
"Do not worry. I'll finish the story another time. The point I had wanted to make, little kit, is that is that the names of pokemon are often aspirational. The Lords of Truth and Ideals. The Giver of Life. Reflections, more then anything else, of what humans need them to be."
The scorbunny pointed at himself, wondering what Aladdin intended for him.
"Kit. Humans are selfish creatures, and I'm no exception. For that reason, I name you Kindling. You will bathe this world in your light and fire...whether that be by my will, or your own."
Aladdin poked his freshly named partner on the nose, making him cross his eyes trying to bring them into focus, letting loose a held breath in the process.
"But in battle, and in casual conversation? Ling, will suffice."
"Hey Amanda. Want to go out with Ling and me to eat? I want to thank my scout for giving me the chance to meet this cute little guy."
From the blank look of surprise on Amanda's face, it didn't seem like the red streetwear enthusiast was used to such invitations. Ling frowned, clambering up his trainers body to wrap his arms around his neck and hang off like a baby monkey. His tongue poked out of his mouth, producing a razzing noise seemed to snap the scout of her stupor, producing a cruel smirk as she shuffled up towards Aladdin.
"You know what? Why not? I'll be sticking around in Gearen for a while, so I'll show you around."
Taking Aladdin's arm in her own, she waved at her technical superior, Professor Jenner, who lazily returned the gesture before returning his attention to paperwork.
The rookie trainer was pleased as a peach to have such a high ranking official in the League eager to spend time with him. If he had learned anything from Director N, it was that schmoozing politically powerful people did wonders for girding one's reputation. One day, N's close relationship with Unova's champion was gonna bite him in the back, but it was a worthwhile sacrifice to secure funding and protection from the regions richest woman.
Aah, ma wouldn't be so polite with him if she found out that was one of the takeaways from their charity work.
"Gearen City is the gateway of the region. Bright eyed rookies like you come here all the time, only to get their dreams crushed and go scrambling back home," Amanda said happily, no doubt proud of the quality of the regions gym leaders. "It's not the biggest city in the Aevium Region, that'd be Grand Dream, but if you make it all the way there you'll be the living nightmare, not the other way around."
Amanda led Aladdin into the cities back streets, assuring him that this was the fast track to the Berry Emporium. For a woman, especially one who seemed quite soft in comparison to the militants he'd met before, she had quite the strong grip, one that reminded him of the pressure his own mother could exert despite her aged and gentle frame.
"You make it sound so dark. Are they really that menacing?"
Gym Leaders were common throughout the world, though most regions didn't call them by that name, and the powers they were bestowed could vary wildly, even in the same land. Burgh, who preside of the Castelia Province, had sweeping control over the infrastructure, defenses, and political bodies of his city. He wasn't so different from the revered warlords of old, who retired to a life of sedentary after realizing the horrors of endless war.
Lenora of the Nacrene District, on the other hand, kept her territory safe, but was otherwise a simple museum curator. The lands she presided over where peaceful, hence, her powers were limited.
Amanda just confirmed her statements with a cheshire grin, so he took a different track. "What's the casualty number for trainers exploring the wilds?"
The woman blinked once, then twice, as they retreated from the shine of the sun into the shadows of high rises. Her gait slowed, and hence, so did he, the sign of the juice bar he had recommended barely visible a mile away.
Even Ling seemed to be paying attention, keeping one eye open while he was otherwise resting.
"Hm. You're a sharp one. Around 5% of registered trainers in Aevium die every year, though the violence is usually kept to hotspots. Wispy Chasm, the Terajuma Jungle, Valor Mountain, and the Badlands. And most of those deaths happen in a specific place in the Badlands. But I'll let you figure that out."
Her voice grew cold enough to make him shiver.
"The true casualty rate, however, is a little higher. You understand why, right?"
That was...very high. Even considering that the number of registered trainers in Aevium was quite low, it was concerning. Those people who called themselves Team Xen...he shouldn't think of that right now. It didn't matter how dangerous it was, but he needed to bide his time. Hopefully, the meeting that was scheduled tomorrow with other League officials would produce a plan he could put faith in.
But right now, they seemed to have needed his mother for something. So she should be safe. He hoped.
Ling didn't seem so concerned. He spat an ember right in front of his face, letting the heat lick at the sides of his trainers head. It left his beautiful hair a little singed, but he got the point.
Anybody who messed with them would get burned.
"I'd like your Berry Bonanza Smoothie please," Amanda talking snapped him out of his internal musings, and he blanched at the price tag on the TV screen menu above him. Amanda bumped into him, as if mocking the young man for asking her out, and even the cashier seemed amused at his predicament. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate, though he wasn't prepared for Ling to enthusiastically sniff the collection of juices in large glass container, and point at the Belue Concoction, another quite expensive menu option.
He wore his betrayal on his sleeve, and overcame his initial dislike of Amanda as they high fived each other, both seemingly eager to torture their lunch companion. Defeated, Aladdin ordered a simple Oran Berry smoothie for himself, and went to take a seat, shaking his empty wallet, provoking raucous laughter from his human companion. Ling, to his credit, quickly pieced together that this screwed him over to, hiding his face underneath a napkin.
"So what to you do for fun Amanda, besides torture poor naive trainers like an utter villain?"
"Oh, this and that," Amanda waved her hands, though it took a while for her to answer. "I...guess I like people watching with Hattena. She...can detect emotions, right? Bad ones, good ones, both at once. She can't detect people feeling no emotions, but they're kind of obvious to her too. It's like going to see an orchestra, but the bass is silent even though the player is there. Actually..."
Amanda reached into her pockets, and brought on the pokeball of her only pokemon, releasing in a silvery stream of light onto Ling's chair, knocking him off in surprise.
Aladdin supposed he should have been grateful Hattena limited her reaction to a look a surprisingly potent grimace of disgust and confusion, instead of terror. She ignored Ling's complaining as she hopped into her trainers lap, wrapping her membranes around her slate body as if to protect herself from his stink.
For some reason, Amanda's faced became flushed. "Woah. Damn. You must be really fucked up Aladdin."
When Ling got back onto the table Amanda's Hattena lashed out, trying to clip him in the head with her tail membrane, and started crying when Ling spat a weak fireball in front of her face, warming up the cold blooded fairy.
As the pokemon fought with eachother, Aladdin defended himself.
"Hattena's young. She doesn't understand a lot of things. I'm sure when she gets older, she'll be less judgmental."
There was a beat.
"Wait that only makes me sound worse."
Amanda didn't respond even when their smoothies came, sharing most of her drink with Hattena, which only made him feel worse. At least Ling was enjoying himself, smiling through his puckered mouth, a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from falling off again from the brain freeze.
Aladdin usually liked Oran Berry smoothies, but this one? This one tasted like failure.
At least until he found a piece of paper in his pocket after Amanda bid him goodbye, and he was caught up in thoughts of where he was gonna sleep tonight.
...if only he had a phone!
"Why are you judging me Ling? You've never had to pay for something before!"
But lo' and behold, Ling's expression mirrored that of Hattena's yesterday as he found footholds on the side of the Chrisola Hotel, praying that nobody would see him cast away like a robber in the night before he got on the ground. He didn't think his scorbunny would be much help if he actually fell, but it made him feel better at least that there was someone waiting for him down there.
Sure, he could have probably gotten away with going through the front door, but he did not want to hear it from that crusty receptionist. Damned old timer thought that rich people were supposed to be presentable and classy. As if! Just because that Saki girl's family owned the place didn't mean that her assaulting guest was any more appropriate then him casing the place!
"I don't need to take that kind of treatment," he convinced himself, before steeling his breath and jumping down the next twenty feet, hoping that speed would obfuscate his presence when passing by a large window on the first floor.
The Gearen night was cold. It might have been kinder to put Ling back in his pokeball, but Aladdin really, really didn't want to be alone. Maybe that made him a poor trainer, but he couldn't find the strength within himself to subject himself to that loneliness.
So long as he carried the fire rabbit in his arms so he could sleep, he wouldn't complain, though his ears twitched every once in a while. Though relaxed, he was still alert.
It reminded him of...it reminded him of...
A small red creature in his arms. A dark void, artificial light. Losing everything. Being the only one who could possibly secure the future for everything he held dear. Being butchered, and getting back up again. Love. Watching. Pride. Falling.
Taken.
The click of keys. The turning of a page. A voice in a mirror. A crown. Glue on the skin. A wet face.
It was him. It was him. It was his. It was hers.
No more!
The memory faded away, a name falling apart before it could leave his lips.
"Kindling," his voice was small, and weak, and miserable. "My name is Aladdin. That's who I've always been. Even if I myself say different...it's not true. I'm the one you met first. I'm the who made a promise to you. I'm the one who gave you your name. No matter what happens to me, please..." his voice trailed off, haunted. "Please remember me even when I can't."
Warm arms wrapped around his neck. As lost as he was, he didn't reciprocate the hug, but that was okay.
Right now, Ling would have to be strong for the both of them, as the dreamer tried to catch his wayward mind.